Mother's Two Good Eyes
by Celesteennui
Summary: She IS his mother. Blood didn't make her that, or duty, or any of Odin's schemes; fate did. He was hers from the second that he cried and no matter what path he takes, he's still her little boy. Always and forever. Snapshots of Frigga and Loki through the years. A companion piece to Greatest Creations and second in the Invictus series.
1. Mother's Two Good Eyes

**Disclaimer:** Marvel (and Disney) own it all; I'm not making any money.

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**Part One: Hers to Claim**

**Song: Celine Dion-Brahms' Lullaby**

**Words: 495**

For all that Odin can foresee, there is just as much that he misses. They are little things, of course, but still, even little things can count. The little things, though, are what Frigga is very good at paying attention to.

Little things, like say, his decision to bring a Jötunn babe back to Asgard.

She knows what his plan is and she immediately does not like it. Does not like that he's chosen such a manipulative course of action. What's more is that she knows it cannot work. If anything, it will backfire terribly and that keeping this foundling will have nothing but dire consequences for all involved, _including_ the baby.

Her mouth opens as Odin settles the child in a nest f blankets and pillows—in their bed, no less—already ordering stewards to clear out the southern wing for their "new son". Frigga cannot let this happen, this travesty, this fool's errand in diplomacy. She will not.

And then the baby starts to cry.

A mother knows pain when she hears it. And loneliness, and fear. The child's cry is all of those things.

"Back," she orders her husband firmly, brushing away his awkward attempts to soothe the baby. Sweeping him up into her arms, Frigga whispers non-words, calming noises laced with warmth and assurance. Her own brand of magic, as passed down by the women in her line for generations upon generations.

It works almost at once, the babe quiets. Frigga's dress isn't thin, but she can still feel the rapid beating of this little heart. He is cooler than she is, not freezing but certainly not normal. He always will be, she suspects.

"Shh," she whispers into his ear. "It is all right. Mother is here." It's that simple; this one belongs to her now, just as Thor does.

Turning to Odin, who is watching with surprise in his one good eye, she gestures toward the door. "Call the craftsman. He will need a bassinet first of all. Green and gold are the colors he should work with, I think. On ebony."

"I…" Normally, Odin's surprise would be something she'd have to take a moment to savor. "We have Thor's old—"

She cuts him off with a shake of her head. "This one is not Thor, Love," she uses the same voice that she so often uses with their aforementioned toddler when he's confused. "He will need his own things."

He stares at her, for just a moment, then nods. Stepping closer, Odin lets his gaze fall down to the child.

"This son needs a name," he says softly as he settles a broad hand on her shoulder.

Looking down at the boy, his tiny hands, dark hair and soft features, the perfect thing springs to Frigga's mind.

"Loki," she says, kissing his forehead.

Her husband nods, a smile blooming on his mouth. "Loki…for the ever changing west-wind. A fine name for a fine boy."

**Part Two: Mama's Boy**

**Song: Alison Krauss-Baby Mine**

**Words: 229**

"This one is not Thor" rings truer than anything Frigga could ever have believed. Loki is his brother's opposite in many, many things. Where Thor cried loudly and often (to prove himself to be watched, Frigga believes), Loki sleeps through the night, barely ever making a peep. Where Thor explored, Loki observes and where his brother clung, her youngest prefers to take the world all on his own.

Most of the time anyway.

She finds him one afternoon in his nursery, sitting half-curled into himself as he hugs his knee. His round face is lined with his lower lip clenched between his teeth. By the redness to the appendage, Frigga's guess would be that he fell and banged it on something.

Wordlessly, she gathers him up and goes to the plush chair by his cradle, settling in it with him in her lap. There are a few sniffles as she kisses his ache and dabs the moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes with her sleeve.

Loki hides almost everything he feels from the world, except when it comes to his mother. Frigga fears, though, that one day even she won't be allowed moments like these, to hold her baby boy and wipe away his tears. She _does_ have now, though, and she plans to treasure it by rocking her son to sleep while he'll still let her.

**Part Three: Silver Tongue**

**Song: Annie Lennox-Precious**

**Words: 552**

He is a clever child, Loki. Often, Frigga knows that he is likely too smart for his own good. It is, however, very hard not to adore how precocious he is. Particularly when Thor is being most…_Thor_.

"Mother! Mother!" Frigga drops her needlework immediately at the sound of her eldest's cry. She runs for the gardens, where Thor's voice is travelling from, noticing at once that there is a mass of loose stonework and glass out there.

She finds Thor kneeling in the middle of the mess, next to his brother who is clutching his arm. Red seeps from beneath Loki's pale, thin hand, and stains his shirtsleeve.

"Loki!" Frigga has him up in her arms before she even finishes his name. "What happened?! Move your hand, Love, let Mother see."

Obediently, Loki moves his hand; she notes the whimper he tries his hardest to hide when he does _and_ the wetness at the corners of his eyes. It is a nasty thing, not a cut but a tear, ugly and near to the bone.

Beside her, Thor is stammering. "I—we—I did not mean—"

"Enough," she snaps. "You stay here." To the guards—who have _finally_ arrived—she barks, "One of you fetch the king. _Now_. The other minds him."

"Mother, I'm—" Thor tries again. Were she not so worried for Loki, Frigga might take into greater consideration how contrite the boy is. However, with the mess that her youngest is in she simply cannot will herself to mind that right now.

"Quiet," she orders. "There is nothing to say right now."

And she rushes back inside, carrying Loki to the healing room. It is a silent journey and a silent wait as she gathers the potions that will mend his arm. He doesn't cry out when the potions—which she knows for a fact _sting_—go to work. He does grip her hand tight enough to bruise, though.

"It was not his fault." Loki's voice almost startles her when he finally speaks. "I bet him that he could not call Mjölnir to him so far away." He winces as the skin on his arm starts to knit over muscle. "He won."

Frigga sits beside him and runs her fingers through his hair. "That does not excuse this, Love. He is your brother—your _older_ brother. It is his job to look after you, not get you hurt. As I am sure your father is telling him as we speak."

Loki looks away. "He will be angry with me."

"If he is, he has no right to be," she assures him. "And you," Frigga lightly pinches her son's nose, "should _not_ goad him."

"In my defense, it is _incredibly _easy to do."

Despite herself, she laughs, though she recovers quick enough to shoot him a (fondly) reproving look.

Loki falls asleep soon after the healing is complete; a common thing and she takes him back to his room. Later in the evening, when she goes to see if he's awake and hungry she finds Thor lying collapsed over Loki's feet. He's fast asleep, apparently unable to keep the vigil he wanted over his little brother. By the way that Loki's hand is resting on Thor's shoulder, Frigga assumes that her younger son doesn't mind.

**Part Four: Godling of Mischief**

**Song: Sinéad O'Conner-My Singing Bird**

**Words: 400**

"I said that I was sorry!"

"Sorry does not change what you have done, boy."

It is a rare thing when Frigga has to take Loki to task but when it does happen, it is never pleasant for either of them.

For example, when he experiments with his developing powers by turning Sif's golden hair black, then can't reverse it, Frigga finds herself _very_ close to shaking him until his teeth rattle right out of his mouth. Instead, she pushes him to sit on a hard stone bench. Behind her, Frigga can still hear the whimpers of poor Sif _and_ her mother as Jarnsaxa leads the girl away.

Crossing her arms, she glares down at her youngest, who drops his eyes down to his knees. He genuinely seems contrite and she understands that it he didn't mean for his prank to go so far. But, as she said, that doesn't change what has happened. Loki must be punished and it must cut to the quick if he's to learn from it.

She looks at the small dagger hanging from his waist, a gift from his father for his first successful hunt, and knows immediately what his punishment has to be.

"Sif trains to be a warrior as you do, but I understand her parents do not give much support to the idea and therefore haven't equipped her as best they could." Frigga bends and unclips the dagger from Loki's belt. His mouth opens but no protests are voiced; he knows better. "You will go to your rooms and pack all of your weapons. Tomorrow, you shall gift all that was crafted for you in Dwarven forges to Sif and apologize to her _again._ Do _not_ attempt to pass falsities off with illusion. It will not please me, Loki."

A few moments pass where he stares at her, disbelief ringing in his eyes. That fades, very quickly, into white-hot rage, frothing to the point that he can't even speak. He darts away before she can stop him, his long legs carrying him far by the time Frigga even registers what's happened.

She knows he will do as ordered, she also knows that they won't be speaking for a while. It tears at her but Frigga holds firm; Loki is her baby but that doesn't mean he won't be held accountable for his actions. She loves him too much to spoil him.

**Part Five: Seeds Sown**

**Song: Dear Prudence-Across The Universe Soundtrack (Beatles Cover)**

**Words: 1,269**

As a warrior, Loki is fine enough; he can't match Thor but then again, practically no one can. Frigga can tell that it bothers Loki; it's the typical complex of a younger child, always struggling to keep up.

Luckily, though, there are plenty of accomplishments that Loki holds over his brother, the most prominent being his Magical gifts. The gift is a rarity among the Jötunn just as it is among the Aesir and since Frigga has a little of her own, no questions can be raised.

The gift is powerful in him, that is certain, much more than anything Frigga has encountered. Like all knowledge, illusion and alchemy come quick to Loki, and she feels more than a little proud with his quick mastery of conjuration. Even Karnilla is impressed with the progress that he's made when she comes to court and Frigga has _never_ seen her do more than raise an eyebrow.

Still, his gifts come at a price, which Frigga sees for herself one day while strolling through the courtyard.

Thor and Loki are sparring, their friends watching on. Frigga's eldest is stronger, of course, but his brother is much quicker. She remains out of sight, behind a curtain of wisteria, quietly observing.

"Give up, little brother," Thor taunts, swinging his practice hammer down. "Today isn't the day that you best me."

"Take him, Thor!" The cheer comes from Sif and is echoed by Hogun, Volstagg, and Fandral. Frigga has mixed feelings about those four; she is glad that her son has friends but they do little to temper his arrogance.

"Perhaps." Loki grins and feints with his spear, tripping Thor in the process. His brother stumbles but catches himself quick enough. There's a redness to Thor's face when he rounds back on Loki; anger, frustration, it's all there. The boy is too proud hence he charges with much more force than is wise or necessary.

Frigga gasps and starts to step out of her hiding place, ready to scold Thor through the nine realms for the damage he's about to do to his brother, when Loki vanishes. Thor passes right through where Loki stands, falling hard onto the ground. Loki reappears in an instant and presses the dull head of his practice spear to his brother's shoulder.

His grin is wide as he looks down at Thor. "Today's mine I think."

Thor does not find Loki's victory to be as amusing as he does. Not even a little, if the growl he lets out as he rises is anything to judge by. Jumping up Thor knocks the spear out of Loki's hand.

"That was cheating!" Thor bellows into his brother's astonished face.

"It was _not_!" Loki returns, anger seeping into his own face. He still appears more shocked—and perhaps hurt—than anything else.

"It was a _trick_!"

"It was _skill_!"

Loki's fingertips—shaking with rage—are alight with blue fire. Fire that his mother is quite sure will end up in Thor's face _very_ soon.

"That is quite enough," Frigga interrupts the fight before practice blows come to strikes made in bad temper. Everyone jumps at the sound and hands fall to sides. Thor's little friends rush to bow, the big one, Volstagg, nearly tripping as he does.

Frigga nods her head to the younglings that don't belong to her. "You may take your leave today, children, I would speak with my sons."

They don't miss the icy undertone to her voice, the warning that any sort of argument will not end pleasantly for them. The four bow again then scatter quick as they can; only Sif looks back, though it doesn't stop her retreat.

Once she's sure that the other children are gone Frigga turns back to her boys. Thor's face is redder than before and Loki's jaw looks tense enough that his teeth could soon splinter. She waits until they both raise their heads to meet her crackling gaze before speaking.

"Bilgesnipe, the both of you," she practically hisses. Loki drops his head in shame while his brother, still too proud, does his best to defiantly stare back. Frigga can read the hurt in Thor's eyes, though, even if he'd never admit that it was there.

"Take yourself to your rooms, Thor. _ Now_," she orders her eldest. "Your father and I will speak to you later."

Thor's shoulders tense but he doesn't argue. He _knows_ better than to argue with his mother when she's wearing the look she wears now. He does spare a moment to glare at his brother before storming off.

As Thor retreats, Loki turns from her, crossing his arms and scowling down at the tips of his boots. "It was _not_ cheating," he insists, though Frigga can tell it is more of a plea for confirmation than a child's angry defiance.

"No, you are right," Frigga gently concedes, folding her hands at her stomach. "It was a clever thing and it will save your life on the field one day. I am very glad that you have such a gift protecting you, my Winter Child. Your brother should not have acted as he did."

He turns at that, the faintest glimmer of hope lighting up his eyes. It breaks Frigga's heart a little to tack on her reprimand.

"But that does not mean letting your own temper out of hand is acceptable." She holds up her right hand and calls forth her own fire, letting it dance but a few seconds to illustrate that she had seen what he might have done.

Again, shame lines Loki's face and he puts his back to her, even walking away a short distance to the great fountain of Borr. He leans heavily against the fountain's edge, arms wrapped around middle; he looks more hurt than sullen and Frigga's heart aches for him.

"His wrongs do not justify yours, Winter Child," she says, approaching him despite the tense, objecting lines of his shoulders.

She ignores how rigid he goes when she comes to stop at his side. Loki, has never been one for open affection, some would call it coldness but Frigga recognizes the truth; her youngest is sensitive, shy. A touch must have _meaning _for him or else it is a waste. It is the trait the Frigga feels most connected to her youngest with, since, until motherhood, she shared it adamantly.

Slowly, gently, she settles one arm over his shoulders and pulls Loki closer to her side. Even more slowly, the stiffness he's forced into his muscles fades away and with that, she ventures to pull of his practice helm. His hair is sweat soaked and somehow even blacker from it, but still soft as Frigga passes her fingers through the damp locks. He's getting tall, taller than his brother is already and much thinner, as she is to Odin. But he is not tall enough yet that Frigga can't easily press her lips to his temple.

"You are strong in your way, your brother in his," she murmurs. "One day you will both see that."

"I hope so, Mother," he says. "But I do not see such a day coming for a very, very long time."

In their stippled reflection from the fountain, Frigga sees at least a little peace on her boy's face and that is enough for her. It stays at the back of her mind though, his words, and she knows that they will be true. Even Frigga's foresight cannot see how hard the path to that understanding will be for her sons though, and she will often look back on this day with a bitter smile.

**Part Six: Second String**

**Song: Placebo-Drag**

**Words: 228**

"You should have _seen_ him, my lady," Sif proclaims with comical gesture to emphasize. "Twenty of them! _Twenty_! One solid strike. It was nothing short of amazing."

"Here, here!" the warriors three echo her heartily, urging the table to toast.

Of course, they're praising Thor. At the banquet that was set for Loki, who had mastered the plans behind their victory in Muspelheim.

Frigga glances at her boys. Thor basks in the praise without a care and Loki wears only the most carefully blank of faces. She knows, though, she sees right through the mask and knows her youngest is upset. Shoved once again to the back while his brother takes the light.

She is not the only one who notes the unfairness at the table though.

"Yes, Thor did a very fine job," Odin says. "All of you did well where Loki positioned you." The Allfather raises his cup, his single blue eye focused on their youngest son. "To Loki Odinson, for his careful planning that won our day."

The hall echoes him of course, every flagon is raised and every face smiles. It's cursory, though, Frigga knows it, Odin knows it, and poor Loki knows it. He will fade into the background in just moments.

To most, at least. To Frigga, Loki will always be in the foreground, she just wishes that could be enough.

**Part Seven: All Of The Words Left Unsaid**

**Song: AFI-This Time Imperfect**

**Words: 351**

"There's always a purpose to everything your father does." Even to her, it sounds _so_ hollow. Proof that she's been playing at optimist for far too long.

And Loki knows it, his big blue eyes settle on her and he sees right through her weak smile. It hurts more than anything in the world.

Odin, if she wasn't so worried about him Frigga would _kill_ him. Soulmate or not, this mess is his fault. Their family is asunder and _he_ sleeps while she sits with hands bound, unable to pick pieces up.

"Do you doubt that I love you?" It isn't a question that she _wants_ to ask, she fears the answer. In the pits of her bones, Frigga knows that those words could unmake her.

He stares at her for a long time, so long that she's sure that his silence is her answer. And it is not a good one.

"You? Never." He almost manages a smile, just for her. Then his gaze falls down to his father lingering sadly on Odin's still form. There is no one alive who could miss such an implication.

While her husband _has_ made foolish plans, his love for their children has never been something that Frigga has doubted. Thor is flesh and blood, yes, but Loki is bound by something just as deep: _choice_. He is not an heir that was expected, he is a joy that was willingly found.

Frigga opens her mouth to say all of that. Reaches for her baby, to draw him to her so that she can hold him and tell him again, and again how loved he is until he believes it as he once did.

But he's already walking away and ignoring her calls to his back. She doesn't chase him; she knows it will do no good. You can't force words into the ears of the deaf, after all. Later she will tell him, she promises herself, once his father is awake (and has been chastened within an inch of his immortal life) and they will confront this mess as a family.

Later will not come, however.

**Part Eight: Cutting Past Bone**

**Song: Johnny Cash-Hurt**

**Words: 465**

"Where is Loki?" Those are the first words out of Frigga's mouth when Odin and Thor drag themselves back to the palace.

Everything inside of her clenches tight, her heart stops beating and she can't make herself breathe.

While her eldest's head is ducked down, she can _still_ see the tears that trail into his beard. His father wears a heavy, lined face; Odin has aged eons in these few hours.

Frigga can barely keep herself upright. She's shaking, her are actually rattling beneath the thin veneer of her flesh. Her nails break the skin on her palms as she clenches them to try and stay her quaking muscles.

"_Where is he_?" she demands, her voice both loud and feeble at once. Her throat is so tight that she can't believe anything's coming out at all. "Odin, where is my baby?!"

Odin can't look at her. "He…fell. From the Bifrost."

Frigga is not proud of what Loki has done these past few days. It is shameful, the way he has behaved, the havoc he has wreaked. But it is not all his fault.

She had warned Odin once that there should be no lies in a family, especially one like this. She had pleaded when he banished Thor, seeing the darkness it would catalyze. When he woke from his slumber she had _begged_ him, hands and knees, to bring their children back. All of those times he had swept past her as if _he_ and he alone knew what was best.

She sweeps her arm between them when he reaches for her. From her fingertips fall droplets of burning white flame that burst against the great stone floor and fly upward. There is a wall of fire between Allfather and Allmother, and he can see his death could very well lie across it.

"Stay away from me!" Her voice feels like it is not her own; gravelly, harsh, _bestial_. A wounded animal; a grieving mother. She points at him through the flames, her arm somehow steady once more.

"_You_ did this. Your harmless lie has toppled our house." Frigga can see the wetness in Odin's one good eye but it stirs nothing in the shattered bits left of her heart. She means what she says. This is the truth.

"You come to me, you _speak_ to me, Odin Borrson," she gets a sick satisfaction at how he winces at his pre-enthroned name, "when either Ragnarök is at our door or my Loki is."

And she walks away. For the first time in fifty-thousand years, Frigga turns her back on Odin and ignores the supplications shouted after her. She cannot regret it; there is too much grief for there to be room for regret. Not today, not for many, many, _many_ days yet to come.

**Part Nine: Storms In The Distance**

**Song: The Cranberries-This Is The Day (Stay)**

**Words: 398**

Frigga is the first to see him, ahead even of Heimdall. After almost a year—though, by all of the old gods, does it feel like so much more—a vision flies through her. It comes during another night where sleep has been given up and she wanders her baby's rooms. Everything there still smells of him and Frigga often hides herself in his study, suffering in her memories.

She sees her Loki, far, far away, friendless, and making a _terrible_ bargain. More frightening than the madness in her little boy's face is the one who stands above him.

Thanos. Oh, how she remembers that one. All of the eons that have passed still cannot dull that terrible face for her.

The first words that she gives Odin since Loki's assumed death are a portent. Together, they, with Heimdall, prepare Thor for what he must do.

While Odin gathers the energy he will need to make up for the still incomplete Bifrost, Frigga takes her eldest son aside.

As she cups Thor's face in her hands, Frigga can see that he has changed more greatly than she ever imagined. She has not been the mother that Thor deserves in this last year. Frigga has been selfish, lost in her own grief and bitterness to be able to do more than ask reports from Sif. It shames her now, intensely, but she moves past it. There is nothing to be done about past mistakes but she can hopefully prevent future ones.

"You and your brother come home." It is not a mother's desperate plea, not a wish, it is an _order,_ and the way Thor looks at her says that he knows it. "Both of you. By Yggdrasil, I will have all of my children back."

A faint smile graces Thor's lips as he rests his rough hands against hers. "Aye, Mother. Perhaps it is you who should face the Chitauri."

She smiles back, the first time in nearly a year, and the warmth of it almost hurts. "No, my son. Midgard would not survive the fury I would bring, I think."

"No, it would not," he agrees.

She kisses his forehead and releases him as his father calls.

Her sons will return, of that, Frigga is sure. Thor has learned true honor and he will find a way to bring Loki home. What happens after that, though, is still unknown.

**Part Ten: Prodigal Son**

**Song: The Smashing Pumpkins-Disarm**

**Words: 370**

"What is that?" All of the joy that filled Frigga at the sight of both of her precious children _finally_ home is pushed back by indignation when she notices Loki chained and…_muzzled_. The chains she understands; Frigga knows enough from her vision that her son is currently a danger to himself as well those around him. But to be muzzled like a hound?

"Get it off of him," she orders before Thor's mouth can do more than open. "_Now_." She doesn't wait for Thor or Odin or even the guards to obey her. She crosses the practically bare throne room in just a few quick strides. The metal mask falls to pieces beneath her hands; that's the magic from her father's side. By the looks on every face—even Odin's—none knew it to be so strong.

There is a cut on his nose, his lip is split, and there are other, little wounds that pepper Loki's pale face. On top of that, there is a sadness in his lined eyes, so deep, tired, and lonely that she fears he may not be fixed. But even for all of that, even for all that he has done, Frigga knows she could live forever in this moment, just looking at her son's face.

She has no voice, her throat is too tight for anything to push through, but the rest of her works well enough. Her arms wrap around him and she holds, so tight that it hurts them both but she doesn't care. This is a gift she had stopped believing in and to have it…Frigga cannot describe what swells in her heart.

Beside her, she senses Odin, feels his arm brush hers as touches Loki's face. To her left, Thor draws closer, resting one hand on Frigga's back and the other on his brother's shoulder. Something cracks in Loki, a mask that Frigga sees him desperately clawing at to keep in place. It falls, though briefly, and his head bows, his shoulders slump, and a noise that may be both defeat and relief slips from his lips.

For just one moment, one beautiful, crystalized bauble of a moment, they are a family once more. Frigga will have that, no matter what comes next.

**Part Eleven: Baby Steps All Over Again**

**Song: Sarah McLachlan-Answer**

**Words: 922**

"You do not have to do this." Her words are more of a petition than an offer and Loki knows it. But Frigga also knows that his mind is made up and she cannot change it. Still, she is his mother and it is in her make to try just as it is in his to be stubborn.

She's cutting his hair as they speak, just the two of them in his chambers. No magic involved whatsoever, just her, her fingers, and her mother's scissors. Frigga does not care for this long mange her baby has returned home with. His face is better served by the chin length strands of black that he had when last in Asgard and that's the state she's returning it to. He doesn't have to give her her way, Frigga knows, and she is touched that he is.

"I know," he says. His voice is thin trickle past his lips. He is afraid but he will face down his fears. "I deserve worse, Mother."

He probably does, Frigga can't deny that. In the few months that Loki has been home she has more than come to terms with what he has done. He has not.

He is still angry with his father for his deceit and with Thor for so long demanding the spotlight. And while he doesn't say it, she knows that there is still distrust for her and her part in the lifelong lie he lived.

Loki can recognize it as overblown and irrational; he's unstable not stupid. But knowing that fact has not made those feelings of betrayal and anger fade. He still hurts and he may still act out upon that hurt.

Hence, he has chosen to Sleep as his punishment.

The Sleep is nothing like when Odin must rest. Loki will not be aware of the world around him, she will not be able to speak to him and have him hear her. He will be lost in the realm of dreams where, hopefully, he will be able to work through all the troubles of his heart. If not, he won't be waking up.

It is frightening and Frigga would almost rather that he choose banishment. The decision is not hers, though, and she takes pride that Loki is not so forgone that he refuses to try.

"There." She sets down the scissors and gently finger combs the inky strands into place, tucking a portion behind his ear. Frigga smiles down fondly at her youngest. "My Winter Child has always been so handsome."

The old pet name slips from her without a thought and Frigga's breath hitches. She has not called him by that since before he knew the truth and she doesn't expect him to care for the reminder. Loki surprises her, however.

Leaning into the hand still gently molded to his cheek, Loki closes his eyes and bows his head. His skin is cool as always and she has _missed _the feel of it. "I am sorry, Mother."

Frigga takes in a breath that quakes her whole form. Apologies were never easy to draw from this one and time hasn't improved that. It's how she knows beyond doubt that he is sincere. She nods and kisses his forehead.

The clothing he's chosen for the Sleep is uncharacteristically drab for him; Frigga's used to his taste in striking greens and bright gold. The figure he cuts in solid black is a sober one, he is still handsome, of course (as his mother, her opinion may be biased) but he does look very different.

"Here." She reaches up to straighten his tunic. While she's there, disliking the monotony of black fabric, she makes a split-second decision and plucks the broach from her gown.

"You need some color," she informs him as she pins her broach on the right side of his high collar. It's simple enough to look at, just a large fire opal set in platinum, but for all its modesty, it is a priceless treasure. Dwarven forged in the heart of a star, just like all great weapons, the trinket has Old Runes emblazoned around its sides, the deepest magic there is. It had belonged to the first of Frigga's line.

"Mother…" Loki knows the worth of this tiny thing pinned at his throat and by the current width of his eyes, he can't believe that she's put it there.

"Hush," she tells him, idly smoothing the fabric that covers his shoulders as an excuse to touch. "I cannot protect you well but what I can do, I will."

Loki says nothing but covers her hands with his own. The silence says enough.

Before they leave his chambers and traipse down into the castle's underbelly where priests will Lull him into Sleep, Frigga takes just a moment to look at her youngest son. Loki is broken in many, many ways. He has done things that may be unforgivable, lashed out and hurt many that didn't deserved it in petulant rage. He has fallen far, and hard, and she cannot fathom a lower point.

Which is why Frigga has hope for him. Lying face down in the muck leaves much room to rise and Loki has always been persistent, if nothing else.

Wordlessly he turns toward the door but pauses just after a few steps. At his side, Frigga sees his fingers curl then uncurl. She answers his unvoiced plea and takes his arm, silent reassurance that he is not alone, not yet, and he allows her to guide him on.

**FIN**

The _Invictus_ series will continue with the next installment _The Arms of Death and The Breath of Life_. Until then enjoy chapter 2, aka, the Easter Egg.

* * *

1. Karnilla is a character from the comics verse and she's supposed to be the most powerful sorcerer in the nine realms.

2. Borr is the father of Odin.

3. They never actually say who Sif's parents are in comics, and even solid mythology doesn't have much. Jarnsaxa is the name of a Jötunn female who mythology says might be her mother, though it's still shaky. In this verse Jarnsaxa is an Asgardian noblewoman.

4. Muspelheim is the land of Fire Demons.

5. Thanos, if you didn't know, is the guy that the Other (Mr. creepy double-thumbs) was speaking to during the Avengers Easter Egg. So yeah, I'm going THAT route if you know your comics and if you don't, sorry, not saying anymore ;-)


	2. Easter Egg

**Disclaimer:** Marvel (and Disney) own it all; I'm not making any money.

* * *

Loki's eyes close in a tiny room beneath the palace archives, to the chanting of ancient words, and the worried faces of his mother, Odin, and Thor. They open to a seamless expanse of black where one of the few men he remembers killing stands patiently, as if he was expected.

"Interesting form of therapy your people have," the man says clasping his hands idly in front of him. Loki can't tell if his smile is saccharine or sincere, which, given his titles, is quite impressive.

"The prophet," Loki murmurs. "Fitting I suppose, to deal with you first. If I tell you that you were right, do I get to move on?"

The man chuckles. "I don't know about all that. Actually, I don't know a lot of things. And if it's all the same to you, nice as 'prophet' sounds, I prefer, Phil." He cocks his head to the side. "Actually, just Coulson works. Wouldn't want things to get too weird for you down the line."

"And that is supposed to mean what, exactly?" he asks.

Coulson holds up both hands. "Sorry, Prince Charming, can't tell you that one. Folks on this side don't do spoilers. You're lucky enough that they're letting me play cosmic guru."

It's with bitterness and guilt that Loki restrains himself from swatting the other man like a bug. Instead, he settles for a curt, "_What_?" All things considered, it's _great_ progress, really.

Amusement plays over Coulson's face. "Sorry, I'll water that down for you." He clears his throat. "My name is Phillip Coulson, you should call me Coulson. I will be your spiritual guide on the coming and oh so rocky road to redemption. Please, try and curb your rampant irrationality without being a complete and utter ass in the process. It'll help you a lot once you're awake."

Again, Loki impresses himself with his restraint—though it's quite trying on his nerves. "Awake? What are you—I just entered the Sleep. I have just begun."

"Well, _actually_…you haven't," Coulson says. "See, time doesn't work quite the same here. This nice little chat we've had? Almost eighteen years back in your normal plane of existence."

_That_ revelation surprises Loki more than anything else so far has. His jaw actually drops and he doesn't even mind the laugh it draws from Coulson. Before his wits come back and he can demand answers, a bright light tears the blackness asunder and Loki can _feel_ himself being pulled away.

"And _that's_ your cue," Coulson says, no shortage of smug superiority in his voice. "See you soon, Prince Charming."

And that's all Loki has before his eyes open back in the chamber he entered the Sleep in. With five _very_ big exceptions.

Two females, three males. One of the females and two of the males appear to be just shy of their majority, the other two are bridging on puberty. They _have _to be mortals; they have the wide eyes and scent of the short-lived. Plus they're dressed like Midgardians and only Earthlings wear those idiotic "hoodie" things.

"Holy, fucksticks, Phil, you woke him up," the young male whispers.

The older female—_Phil _(Loki sees Coulson's smirk in his mind's eye)—rolls her eyes. "Oh bullshit! Just because he looks like a robot _doesn't_ mean he's voice activated. Right?" She looks at him as she says that last sentence, as if she's demanding an answer.

Loki has the feeling that he is very soon going to be wishing himself back to unconsciousness.


End file.
